


i'll be cleaning up bottles with you

by k_tron



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_tron/pseuds/k_tron
Summary: A New Year's Eve party, a thrown drink, and a whole lot of repressed emotions.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 112





	i'll be cleaning up bottles with you

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick New Year's Eve drabble, and it got way out of hand. But I hope you enjoy regardless! Happy holidays and happy 2020!

As a rule, Lily loved holidays.

Christmas was her favorite, filled with her mum’s mulled wine and snuggled by the tree in red and white footie pajamas. But every holiday mattered, in its own way: she had trunks of old Halloween costumes, all now covered in glitter from the one time she had decided to make her own Tinkerbell costume and accidentally upended the crafts table; ate her weight in chalky candied hearts ever year at Valentine’s; and could be counted on to make marshmallow birds fight with toothpicks in the microwave every year around Easter.

She even had an emerald dress she unfailingly pulled out for St. Patrick’s Day, despite the fact that it caused every bloke in a ten minute radius to declare, “Kiss you, you’re Irish!” when she definitely was _not_ , nor did she want to be kissed when simply trying to drag her friends into celebrating a rather nonsense holiday with a gentleman’s level of debauchery. It was one of the curses of being a redhead in March, unfortunately, and Lily usually grinned and bore it with good humor, unless the bloke in question got handsy. (In all fairness, the green did look rather good with her hair.)

She loved holidays because they were a time to celebrate, and in this godforsaken mess of a world, a little celebration could only be a good thing.

But this year, waiting on the cusp of a new calendar and cradling a flimsy, plastic flute of champagne, Lily felt undoubtedly less enthusiastic than usual. She had worn her best skirt in honor of the occasion and threaded her hair with a bit of gold glitter (“That’s never going to come out of the carpet, you know.” “Then we’ll have New Years spirit all year long, Mary, so _deal._ ”), but she felt something decidedly less than sparkly.

It just wasn’t quite the same. The family cheer aspect of the holiday was harder than ever, as Petunia sunk further into a relationship with the human equivalent of a whale -- assuming a whale could mansplain and channel energy into hating refugees. 

And Severus… well, she and Sev would usually be sitting off to the side of the room, him making clever (but sometimes overly snide and biting, Lily had known that, even then) comments about other partygoers while she sipped her drink and watched the world. It wasn’t perfect -- especially in later years, when Lily discovered Mary and Marlene and that she _liked_ being in the middle of a party sometimes, and that Severus didn’t seem to take kindly to her sharing conversation with others -- but it was tradition. And tradition mattered -- that was part of the magic of holidays.

This year, though… with Petunia hating her and the awful, predicted-but-still-miserable, blowup fight with Severus, (which had taken place in the leadup to Christmas and would not be mentally touched with a ten-foot pole) looming over her… it just wasn’t quite the same.

And then there was --

“Lily!”

Lily sighed, even as her heart gave a thump, and then a skip, and then looked up rather pathetically and hopefully because, well… she knew that voice. And she had been equal parts hoping to hear it and trying to avoid it all night long, lest she finally have to face the feeling that had been dogging her on walks and around corners at all hours of the day and realize that _no_ , he did not feel similarly, and was simply a bright and cheerful and _friendly_ bloke who wanted to remain her _friend_ , thank you very much.

But now it was here, floating toward her with all its charm and cheer, and somehow still coming from the tall, fit, perpetually grinning form of James Potter.

It was very difficult to ignore him this way, Lily thought. Not just the fact that he had cried her name from across the room, causing assorted partygoers to look up in a startled and scandalized way (as if this wasn’t a _party_ , and Peter hadn’t been drunkenly singing Auld Lang Syne three hours too early -- no, James was the disruptive one). Nor that he was now bounding toward her corner of the house, quickly and carelessly, knocking poor Dorcas Meadowes’ drink out of her hand and promptly apologizing, which then caused him to spin back around to the kitchen and acquire a new drink for Dorcas, starting the process over again. Such an awkward, bumbling, _lovely_ gentleman, her James was.

No, it had more to do with the fact that his face lit up upon seeing her, as if she was an unexpected and delightful surprise. As if she was the best part of his day, and he had been waiting for her arrival. _That_ was hard to ignore, and hardly fair, given how desperately she was trying to avoid how she felt about this man.

His hair was as much of a disaster as always, flipping to all sides as if trying to mimic a Kansas that had just been swept off to Oz. Upon seeing her, his hand jumped up seemingly of its own accord to ruffle through the insanity as he skidded to a stop right in front of her.

Lily’s fingers itched to run through it so badly that she sat on her palms.

“Where have you been, Evans?” he asked, sounding affronted. “I had to spend a whole hour fending off Handsy Hannah in the kitchen. I thought we agreed on eight o’clock and a mutual life raft for uncomfortable conversations.”

 _Like this one?_ Lily thought, because -- despite herself -- she felt her hackles rise at the mention of Handsy Hannah, so named because of the incident in which she “accidentally” spilled a drink on James’s lap and spent the next five minutes attempting to dab it off with her sleeves. Lily had to fake choking to get him out of that one.

Hackles did not rise for friends, even the very best of them. Hackles only rose for feelings that were entirely inappropriate for Lily to have, because this was James, and he was wonderful and beautiful and her favorite person in the world and she would not lose him over her inability to keep it in her pants. 

So she lifted her chin and said, while patting the cushion beside her, “What am I, your keeper? Perfection takes time, Potter --” she gestured to herself -- “and I assumed, apparently mistakenly, that you could manage without me for a few hours.” 

James threw a hand up onto his forehead and tipped backward in some imitation of an overly dramatic Victorian lady. “So unfair, when you know how I pine for you. Any day, week, hour away from your company and I fade, losing luster to time and longing, a shell of myself --”

“Oh shut it,” Lily interrupted, ignoring the persistent fluttering in her stomach. “Just come sit, I know you want to.”

James laughed, flopping down on the couch and comfortably and easily settling an arm around her shoulders. “You do look lovely, you know,” he said in a more normal tone. “Though you always do, so sometimes I forget to say it.”

She shoved the feeling those words gave her into submission with both hands, instead saying lightly, “I’m glad you noticed. I stole this skirt from Petunia’s closet and I’ve been waiting to break it out for ages.”

His eyes trailed up her legs, and Lily’s breath caught. Was he... surely he wasn’t... 

But when they finally reached her face, he was frowning in a teasing way. “Theft, Evans? I thought you were supposed to be the good influence.”

“That’s Remus’s job,” she replied lightly, even as disappointment sunk into her stomach like a lead weight. It settled there, ugly and uncomfortable, as she tried to navigate her feelings away from the spark of hope and back toward more familiar ground.

She was casting her mind out for something to say, anything to distract her from blurting something utterly inappropriate in the middle of the party (“This is a wonderful conversation we’re having, but I’ve been bloody in love with you for months now and what I’d really like is for you to stop complimenting my skirt and instead drag me upstairs and rip it off with your teeth”), when suddenly James interrupted her.

“Oh!” he cried, his arms flailing upward from the back cushion. “I brought you a present! I can’t believe I almost forgot.”

Lily gathered the strands of her thoughts, trying to weave them into something coherent. “Did you forget what month we’re in again? Not that I hate the extra present, but you haven’t always been reliable about these things and my birthday is at the end of _January_ , not December.”

“That was _one time_ , and I fully blame Sirius, all those calendars --”

“Yes, motorcycle collections can be very distracting --”

“-- and it was that snowstorm and class was cancelled so I had nowhere to be and I maintain that _anyone_ would’ve been confused by the constant onslaught of December imagery --”

“Because _no one_ starts putting up Christmas decorations early, you can’t possibly be put upon to keep track of timing despite those clues --”

“ -- and if you want this present, smartass, you should stop making fun of me,” James finished, eyes glinting happily behind his glasses as he flicked her on the knee.

“Weak,” Lily grumbled. James raised a taunting eyebrow and she sighed, sitting up straighter. “But of course I want the present, so I’ll accept any lackluster banter you throw at me, and you know it.” She eyed him. “No fair.”

He grinned and shifted slightly (bumping Lily’s knees with his own in the process, not that she was tracking every place they touched), digging a hand into his pocket. A moment later, it emerged clutching a rumpled sheet of paper. He grimaced slightly. “I had hoped for slightly better presentation than this, but best laid plans and all that…”

Lily took the paper curiously. Was it one of his drawings? From the few that she’d seen (he was always reluctant to show her, which she never understood because he was so _talented_ ) he was usually much more careful with those. She couldn’t imagine one being scrunched up and sat on for an evening, as this sheet had clearly been.

He watched her eagerly as she started unfolding it. “I knew you wouldn’t buy tickets yourself,” he explained, eyes fixed on the crown of her head. “And my mother insists she won’t use them -- you know how she gets, utterly impossible to argue with, especially when she’s trying to spoil -- and I thought, ‘Which of my friends would appreciate this the most?’ Obviously not Sirius, he hates anything that brings joy, and Remus has been in and out of the hospital so much recently that I wasn’t sure he’d be up for it, and there’s not any expensive cheese so Peter won’t be interested… and then I thought, Lily’s been wanting a chance to get fancy for ages, maybe she’ll use these wisely! And so here we are.”

Lily stared down at the paper. She read it once. Twice. “James,” she whispered finally. “Did you buy me tickets to Phantom of the Opera on the West End?”

“Regifted,” James corrected. “I _regifted_ you tickets to Phantom of the Opera on the West End. Technically it’s Euphemia Potter’s purchase, I’m just directing as I see fit.” He looked at her, the first hint of nerves crinkling around his eyes. “Was I wrong?” he asked lightly. “Will you not give them the proper appreciation they deserve?”

Lily laughed incredulously. “James, of course I appreciate them, I’ve wanted to see a West End show since I was six, but -- it’s too much, I can’t just accept this --”

James cut her off. “Too late!” he cried. “You’ve admitted a childhood dream, and now it’s my solemn duty to see it through. Think of the earful I’d get from my mother if I told her I now gave these to someone else, fully knowing it ruined your hopes for life satisfaction.” He shuddered in mock horror. “The _earful_.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the _only_ thing that’ll give me life satisfaction…”

“Well, that and the chance to finally eject Boris Johnson off the Earth until he boils in his skin under the heat of the sun,” James added, grinning once again. His hand reached out to envelop her own where it still clutched the receipt. “Seriously, Lil, it’s fine. These would go to waste otherwise, I’m just happy to see they’re in good hands.”

She looked up at him hopelessly, her own hand nearly burning from the contact. “I…”

He shook his head. “No take backs,” he said in a final tone. “Oh, and I should mention that there are two tickets -- take whoever you want, though I’d like to make a plug for myself, if I may. I look great in a suit and absolutely cannot hit all of Christine’s notes, but I am happy to make an attempt in the lobby and scandalize all of the swotty patrons who take themselves too seriously.”

Lily couldn’t help but laugh, even through her disbelief. “That’s supposed to be a point in your favor?”

“I suppose not,” he mused, “though your other option is Peter, and then you’ll have to bring your own hors d’oeurves plate and spend intermission considering the merits of Camembert, so it’s your call, really.”

“Well, in that case…” Lily trailed off, reading over the page one more time before tilting her chin up to look at him for real. “Thank you, James. Truly. This is so lovely.”

The hand not wrapped around hers shot up to his hair to ruffle once more, and he smiled softly. “Of course, Evans.”

With his eyes wide and bright behind thick glasses, the dimple on his cheek shining for the world to see, his warm hand still gently and comfortably gripping her own...

Well.

As she said.

It was hard to ignore him this way.

*****

It hadn’t always been like this. 

Their first interaction was… difficult, to say the least. Unproductive. Or, as Mary had put it, a shower of disaster and fuck-all.

It was their second year of undergrad. Midterm exams had just ended, and what seemed to be the entire population of Hogwarts was crammed into the Hog’s Head, the slightly dodgy dive on the corner by campus. 

“Piss off!” Mary shouted over the din of drunken conversations and 70s rock, blustering its way out of an old jukebox. She shoved an unsteady looking Marcus Hornby away from bumping into her again, and he stumbled off in the other direction. “Jesus fuck, it’s like no one in this country has heard of personal space.”

Lily lifted her drink to her lips, took a healthy gulp, and nodded. “Keep at ‘em, love, we’ll have ourselves in a bubble of social isolation in no time.”

“That’s what I’m going for!”

Lily laughed and tucked her arm into her friends elbow, Mary’s leather jacket cool against her skin. She leaned in closer, angling to avoid someone pressing past her back on their way to the bar. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to lighten up just a tad. Other people aren’t completely useless.” She squeezed Mary’s arm. “Think of where we’d be if you’d told me to piss off on move in like you just did Marcus!”

“Not surrounded by idiots and ruining my favorite shoes?”

“Not making memories!” Lily cried. “Which you will cherish until you’re old and wizened on a front porch someday, wishing that you had one more opportunity to down cheap gin and tonics and wear your favorite jeans out on a night with your very favorite flatmate, celebrating the existence of being young and hot and finally done with our fucking exams.” She held up her glass expectantly until, with another eye roll, Mary clinked hers against it in a reluctant cheers.

Lily grinned. “See? That’s the spirit!”

“You are entirely too optimistic for your own good.”

Lily laughed and bounced up onto her toes. “Come on, downer, let’s get another drink and celebrate, I haven’t had a good holiday in too long.”

Mary allowed herself to be led through the pulsing crowd, grumbling, “I’d feel much better about this whole night if I had some prospects at a good shag afterward.”

Lily just laughed again and tugged her farther, now aiming for the pale figure in a black hoodie who was sitting at the bar and nursing a beer. He seemed to project a force field that prevented other patrons from sitting within a four foot radius. Impressive, in a bar this crowded. When she reached him and cried, “Sev!” he startled. 

His face immediately gained a light flush. “Lily,” he said quietly. “I’ve been waiting for a while, you know.”

She smiled and plopped down on the stool on his right, pulling him into a one armed hug. “Thank you for saving me a seat,” she replied. She had learned it was better to just not engage when he made comments like that, as much as they simmered in the pit of her stomach. “We had a little trouble getting out the door.” She gestured to Mary, who was now standing stiffly behind her.

Severus gave Mary a sharp jerk of his head, said, “McDonald,” and immediately turned his eyes back to Lily.

Mary returned the nod curtly. “Snape.” She touched Lily on the shoulder. “I’m going to get myself a drink and say hello to Dorcas. Send a pigeon if you need anything.” Lily waved her off and, with a last, sideways look at Severus, Mary headed to flag down the bartender.

“I don’t like her,” Severus said immediately.

Lily sighed and resettled herself on the wooden stool, dropping her purse on the floor. “You say that about everyone I spend time with.”

He eyed Mary’s retreating back with distaste. “She’s just so…”

“Likely to take up time that I would otherwise be spending with you?” When he recoiled, Lily reached out and touched him lightly on the wrist. “Look. I know you’re not best mates. But she’s my friend, and you’re my friend. I don’t think a little civility is too much to ask for?”

Severus, seemingly transfixed on where Lily’s skin touched his, didn’t answer. She tapped his hand. “Sev?”

His gaze traveled up her arm and settled on her face intently, almost hungrily. He’d had that look on his face more often lately. It was cold, feral. And it always made Lily’s stomach turn before she could remind herself that this was Sev, her oldest friend in the world, and he needed her to be steady for him. 

She pulled back from his arm and grasped her drink, awkwardly taking another sip, then gave him a half smile. “Civility, yeah?”

He shook his head quickly -- not negating, just as if brushing off a fly or an errant thought. “Yeah,” he mumbled in response. “Sure, fine.”

Lily’s smile broadened into something more real, less uncomfortable, and she sat back on her stool. “Great. That’s settled, then. And now I can tell you about Petunia’s new boyfriend, I’ve been wanting to talk about him for _weeks_ \--”

“Is this bloke bothering you?”

Lily paused and raised an eyebrow at Severus, whose eyes had gone flat. He shook his head more deliberately this time, quick and sharp. _Unnecessary,_ his face said. _Continue your story._

But she turned anyway, coming face to face with the golden-skinned, sharp-cheekboned, familiar face of the boy who sat three rows behind her in her global history lecture. (She had noticed, not that she would ever admit it to Mary or Severus. His face was… aesthetically pleasing, to say the least. And she hadn’t _not_ noticed his forearms, taut while he took notes or dug around his schoolbag for a textbook.) He was usually in the company of… yes, there they were, lingering in a sticky corner and trying to look casual. The lanky, sandy-haired one, who was watching events unfold with a slight air of concern; and the model-handsome one in the leather jacket, whose eyes were fixed on Severus with an almost wolfishly eager half smile. 

“Sorry?” 

“I asked if he was bothering you.” The boy gave a curt jerk of his head toward Severus, and set his drink on the bar next to Lily. “I’ve seen you around before, and him, and, well -- you two don’t seem like the types to mix, so I thought I’d come and see if you needed rescuing.” He gave her a half grin, and one hand jumped up to ruffle his already unruly hair. 

Lily frowned. “And your name is?”

“James,” the boy replied. He glanced back at his friends once, then turned toward her, grin widening. “James Potter.”

“Right.” Lily straightened on her stool. “Well, Potter --”

“James.”

“Potter,” Lily repeated firmly. “I’m quite happy chatting with my friend, and he’s bothering me a right sight less than you are, so I think we can quit the knight in shining armor act for now, what do you say?”

James just grinned and leaned in closer. “I’m your knight in shining armor? Gosh, that seems to be moving a little fast, given that I don’t even know your name yet, but who am I to say how fantasies play out?” Lily scoffed, but he continued, “Good thing that I happened to brush my steed recently -- my cat, you know. He probably won’t take too kindly to us riding him, but at least he’ll look dashing as an escort into the sunset.”

Despite the sense of annoyance that had been bubbling in her chest and the unwavering sensation of her best friend glaring at her shoulder, Lily wanted to laugh. His _cat_? Was he serious?

Instead of giving into the impulse -- and adding fodder to the surely inevitable fight she and Severus would have later, as he jumped down her throat for not giving him her full attention -- she said, “As tempting as that sounds, Potter, I’d just like to continue my evening. Sans cats, and knights. I’ve never considered myself much of a damsel, and I don’t particularly like what you’ve said thus far about my mate.”

She twisted back toward Severus, whose knuckles had tightened on his beer. “So, anyway --”

“Oi, Padfoot!” James’s voice cut off her conversation again, loud even across the noise of the bar. “Do you remember what Snape here said to Molly Weasley the other day? Something about her family as ‘little more than dumpster trash’ because her brother proposed to Aditi Patel last weekend --”

“Why yes, Prongs, I do remember that!” Sirius called back, eyes glinting. “Seemed to think that because he’s marrying an immigrant the family is suddenly dirt --”

“-- and made poor Molly cry for hours, Remus had to surrender his last biscuit to make her feel better,” James finished, now staring at Severus. His eyes were unflinching. 

Lily’s eyes bounced between them. Was that… that couldn’t be true, could it? He wouldn’t… 

She fixed her gaze on Severus, whose face had paled and whose eyes now stood out like glittering beetles against his skin. His knuckles were white. There was nothing like remorse in his expression.

And all of a sudden, Lily was furious. Furious at Severus, for not defending himself, for not saying _of course I would never, don’t you know me, Lily?_ Furious at herself, for doubting her oldest friend. 

And furious at James Potter, for bringing this up in the most callous of ways, for interrupting what had been thus far a mostly pleasant evening, for looking like he was made in a factory just for her to find attractive and rambling in a delightfully weird way that made her want to laugh and then for _ruining_ the whole bloody moment.

“Are you kidding?” she hissed at him. He looked taken aback by her sudden vehemence, and his hand shot up to his hair again nervously. 

“What?”

“You’re just going to fling accusations like that in the middle of a bar? Without even caring if they’re true?”

“But --”

“And even if they _were_ true, how do you think Molly would feel about you airing her life to the world in the middle of the Hog’s Head? Did you think of her at _all?_ Bloody _hell_ , the most _arrogant_ \--” Lily pushed herself out of the stool angrily, gesturing sharply to Sev and stalking around James. He at least had the presence of mind to look slightly abashed, though it could’ve just been that he was off kilter. Lily didn’t know him, but she could tell that he hadn’t been talked to in this way much, if ever at all. “Thank you for your entirely unrequested insight, and _goodbye_ ,” she snapped as she brushed past his shoulder, fully intending to find Mary and get the hell out of here, her good mood now lost to the wind.

But James caught her arm. As she ground to a halt, anger reaching a boiling point in her veins, he leaned in and whispered furiously, “Look, maybe that was a shite way of warning you off him, but that story is _true_ , I talked to Molly myself, and I don’t want you hanging around with some immigrant-hating psychopath who makes women cry for fun!” He dropped his hand from her, scanned his eyes across her face, and took a half step back. There was a moment of pause, as he stared at her and she stared right back, and tension thumped between them like a brick wall. Then his lips lifted in a disarming half smile. “You’re far too pretty for that.”

Lily wasn’t sure what made her do it. She was there, fully inhabiting her body, staring at James Potter in disbelief while Severus hovered angrily behind. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that most of the bar clientele had paused in their debaucherous pursuits to fix beady eyes on her conversation, hoping for a tale to bring home. She could see Mary, on her tiptoes in her too-big leather jacket, grinning as she took in the scene. Lily shouldn’t have given them a story. She could have grabbed Sev’s wrist, rolled her eyes at Potter, and continued on her merry way.

Apparently, she didn’t have much sense.

Almost of its own accord, her hand reached out, wrapped around the mostly full gin and tonic she had left sitting on the bartop, and flipped it into James Potter’s face.

Silence echoed through the bar. Those who hadn’t already been staring stopped their dancing and drinking and laughing to turn, as if a spotlight had burst into brilliance in their corner. 

James blinked at her. Blinked again, as drops of sticky alcohol slid down his manic locks, now plastered to his head. His white t-shirt stuck to his body at the neck, and Lily could see his collarbone defined through the fabric.

Over his shoulder, she saw Mary clasp her hands to her mouth.

There was another beat of silence before Lily’s body returned to itself in wave, tingles pushing through her fingers and up to the roots of her hair. What had she just done?

“Come on, let’s _go_ ,” she shot over her shoulder to Sev, grabbing his wrist and pushing forward as she should’ve done, as she was meant to do before this madness. The sound in the bar roared back to life. Lily put her head down and barrelled through the crowd, desperately making her way toward where Mary stood, still shocked but now laughing incredulously.

“Lily Jean Evans!” she cried over the increasing noise as Lily and Severus approached. “Where on earth did that come from?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, let’s just _go_ ,” Lily mumbled, pushing Mary with one hand and pulling Sev with the other, now wanting nothing more than to leave the scene of the crime, crawl into bed, and never think about this night ever again. What was she _thinking_ ? She was never coming to the Hog’s Head ever again. She was never drinking ever again. She was never going to global history _ever again_. 

“I take it back, this night was _much_ better than a good shag,” Mary declared happily, allowing herself to be manhandled along. 

“So glad you’re amused, I live to entertain, but can we just get out of here, _please_?” Lily groaned, pulling and pushing a little harder to get them to move.

When they reached the door, she shoved her friends out, and dared one last look at the teeming mass of the Hogwarts population still pressed into the building. James still stood there, unmoving, dripping wet. His friends were nearly doubled over in laughter behind him, but his eyes were trained on where she had cut a path through the bar. 

When their eyes met, his lips quirked upwards. He mouthed, “Lily Jean Evans,” and lifted two fingers to his forehead in a mocking salute.

Lily ducked out into the cool night, trying to convince herself that the flush creeping up her neck was a result of being packed into a small space with so many people, nothing more.

*****

She skipped global history for a week after that, bumming notes from Marlene and sending herself into a panic about what she missed in lecture. (It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Marlene. It was just that Lily’s notes were things of beauty, color coded and organized by importance.) 

It was only after Mary had walked in on her yelling at her course material for the third time (“Just _illuminate_ for me what will be on the _fucking_ exam you piece of _shite_ textbook, _Jesus_ ”) that she put her foot down.

“You have to go to class.”

Lily threw her pen down and looked up from where she was slumped on the floor, leaning on the foot of her bed in the hopes that a new angle would make history more interesting. “I can’t just _go to class_ ,” she replied disgustedly. 

Mary had paused in the doorway, and now placed both her hands on her hips. “And why not?”

“I did something _insane_ . The whole bar was talking about it. The whole world is probably talking about it now. Think of the shame this will bring to my family! My _cow_!”

“This isn’t _Mulan_ , drama queen, get off the fucking floor and fucking go to class.” Mary stomped over and grabbed Lily’s hands, attempting and failing to drag her into a standing position. “Get. Up. And. Move. You. Dramatic. Piece. Of. _Shite_.” She punctuated every other word with a heave, until Lily’s arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets.

“Oi, oi!” She batted Mary away. “What kind of mate are you, with no sympathy for me in my state of despair?”

“What’s the big deal? So you threw a drink at someone --”

Lily groaned --

“-- I do that every other Tuesday, you don’t see me wallowing about it.”

Lily thunked her head back on the bed. “You’re _you_ , it’s acceptable.” She ignored the brief glow of pride on Mary’s face at those words and continued, “Plus, it wasn’t just someone. It was a very attractive someone who happens to sit three rows behind me in a class I was probably going to fail anyway, but which I will now most certainly fail because he and his friends will spend the next few weeks making my life a living hell.”

Mary squatted in front of her. The grin blooming on her face was reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat, or maybe the Joker in one of his more manic phases. “Very attractive, huh?”

“Like he popped out of a Sally Thorne novel written specifically for me, but that’s not the point! Can we focus? Living hell!”

Mary sighed, grin fading, and sat back on her heels. “Alright, fine. Look, you said his friends were laughing, right?”

Lily nodded reluctantly.

“And that he was being a bit of a cad anyway, butting in on you and Snape? Not that I oppose that on principle, but hey --”

Lily waved away the comment. “Yes, all of that, fine, but the _hell_ \--”

“So it sounds like he probably deserved it, right?” Mary finished. “You could do worse than throwing a drink in someone’s face who really deserved it. His mates seem amused, they won’t ruin your life over it. And I’m sure when you see him again he’ll be properly contrite and you’ll accept the apology like the overly forgiving bint you are and it’ll all blow over, no harm done.”

Lily squinted at her friend suspiciously. “When did you get wise and thoughtful?”

Mary stood up again, knees cracking, and said airily, “It’s a gift and a curse.” From her vantage point up high, she then grinned and added, “Or you could just march up to him, snog his very attractive face, and say, _‘Why, yes, Potter, I am as wet right now as you were on Friday night, and I’d love if you do me the favor of returning to mine and having your way with m --”_

She broke off laughing as Lily threw a pen at her.

Lily didn’t go to class that day, deep in misery and stubborness as she was. But eventually she couldn’t justify keeping Marlene’s notes any longer, and she really was curious to see what his mates would think, so she dusted herself off and exited the dorm.

To her surprise, her grand return to global history went nearly as Mary expected.

She slipped in just as the lecture started, eschewing her usual second row seat for one closer to an escape route. All was fine. _She_ was fine. There had been several side-eyes and one behind-the-hand whisper, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

As she settled into the scratchy cushion, she dared one glance toward where James Potter sat comfortably in his usual lecture seat. He was laughing, seemingly unmoved and unfazed by the drama of the week before. But as she looked, his sandy-haired friend scanned the room and caught her eye.

Lily sunk into her seat immediately. Maybe he hadn’t seen her? 

That hope popped like a soap bubble when she saw James spin around, flash her an almost impossibly wide smile, and wave his pen at her. The velocity of that wave was almost manic, really.

Lily’s thighs slid further down on the seat, and she didn’t look up from her notes for the rest of class.

Seemingly moments later, not nearly long enough in Lily’s estimation, Binns ended class and she was walking out of the room as fast as she could without inciting a panic. Wouldn’t that be just the thing? Lily Evans, drink thrower and stampede instigator. Something new for her tombstone, at least.

She was so wrapped up in her determination to reach her dorm as quickly as possible that she didn’t hear him until he skipped up right next to her.

“Oi, Evans!”

Lily looked around wildly for a moment before realizing no, there was nowhere to go, and she might as well just face this thing head on. So she squared her shoulders and turned her head, still walking, to see James Potter’s unruly mop of hair towering over her.

“Mm,” she acknowledged.

He grinned -- was he always grinning? How could any one person smile that much? -- and hitched his schoolbag tighter on his shoulder. “How’s your week been, Evans? Divest yourself of any beverages lately?”

So they were getting right into it, then. Lily sighed, slowed, and placed a hand on her hip. “Look, Potter --”

“James.”

“I don’t know what came over me last Friday. It was inexcusable, and I’d love to never revisit it again, so let’s leave the conversation there, yeah? Though I am glad to see your hair has recovered its pomp and circumstance after my... actions.”

James had slowed with her, and now nudged her in the side. “Been noticing my hair, have you?”

“It’s hard not to notice, isn’t it? With you fluffing it up all the time.”

He laughed as he once again took the action in question, combing through the strands with his fingers. “I’ve been told my hair is my greatest asset. Seems a shame not to highlight it.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad I didn’t cause any lasting damage, and this can be the last we ever discuss it. No more hair, no more drinks. It’s been… nice to meet you, Potter.”

She turned to go, but James took a stumbling step and spun to face her, cutting off her path. “Wait, Lily. I, ah…” he paused for a moment, lifted his hand to pull through his hair once more, then seemed to think better of it and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck instead, elbow pointing toward the sky. “I didn’t come just to chat.” Lily raised an eyebrow, and he went on, “It has come to my attention that I was a bit of a prat on Friday, to be honest.”

All possible responses slid out of her brain. He was… he what?

James’s eyes darted across her face. “It’s not fair that you can do that eyebrow thing, you know. I’ve tried for years and still can’t, but --” he coughed -- “not the point. Anyway. I was a bit drunk and you’re… you, and very pretty, that part was true, but it strikes me as not ideal to interrupt someone’s conversation just to tell them that.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Plus I did insult your mate, and publicly shout a slanderous story, and all that. Not that I think he doesn’t deserve it, but, well… bugger.”

Lily stared up at him, haloed by the afternoon sun and not looking her in the eye. His glasses were slipping slightly on his nose. “You’re… apologizing to me?”

James sighed. “I am. Yes. Badly, it seems, my mother would kill me for this, but...”

“I threw a drink at you. I got your clothes and your face and your hair all sticky, a state which you presumably had to manage all night or preemptively end your evening, and you’re apologizing to _me_?”

He nodded earnestly. “I... yes.” He shifted again, pulled both hands through his hair this time, and then seemed to steady himself on the pavement, grounding both feet in equal measure. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I’m sorry, Evans. I was a right cad, and your friends are your choices to make, and it wasn’t right of me to either stick my head in or shout business that wasn’t mine across the bar or pay you compliments that you probably weren’t looking for. Which, if I’d had slightly less to drink, I would’ve known in the moment.” His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Not that drunkenness is an excuse,” he added quickly. “It was shitty behavior overall, and I take full accountability. I’ve already found Molly, and she seems alright about the whole thing, but I wanted to find you as well. So… sorry?”

Lily’s mind was blank. He was apologizing? Which, yes, he had been a bit of an arrogant toerag. And as she was reliving the incident in the week between, she had drifted into fantasies in which this stunningly attractive, irreverently hilarious boy would recognize his actions had hurt her feelings, then conduct a heartfelt apology worthy of John Hughes and therefore reclaim his position in her imagination as the ideal man. But that wasn’t reality. He was an arse, Lily responded accordingly, and that was that.

Unless it wasn’t.

“I…” she started, then trailed off. “Thank you, I suppose.” 

His lips tipped up in a slight smile. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t expect… You _were_ a bit of a cad, and I was angry, but this is… well, very decent.” She peered up at him. “I’m impressed, Potter.” 

“I’m glad you think so.”

Her eyes shifted to just over his shoulder, ignoring the smile blooming across his cheeks, and she added, “For the record, I’m also sorry I threw a drink at you. That’s not like me at all. And now strikes me as rather insane.”

“I thought we both agree that I deserved it?”

Lily chuckled and let her eyes drift back to his, where they seemed to be pulled like a magnet. “I suppose we did,” she said softly.

There was a brief pause. His eyes were hazel, she thought. That lovely hazel that could be blue or could be green, but featured a bright circle of gold and always seemed to glow with light. She had always loved eyes like that. Her pulse drummed against her skin, and she saw those eyes start to crease slightly.

Suddenly realizing how long they’d been standing in silence, Lily broke eye contact and scuffed her toe on the sidewalk. “Well, I’m heading that way, so…”

James jumped. “Right, yeah.” He twisted and gestured in an “onward” motion. But as Lily stepped around him to resume her path, expecting him to turn back the way he’d come and reattach himself to his group of friends, he fell into step beside her. “So,” he continued more confidently. “Speaking of, I think I should be one of them. Your friends, I mean. I think we should be friends.”

Lily looked at him sideways. “You and me?”

James huffed a laugh. “Yes, Evans, you and me. I’m a great friend, you know.”

She adjusted her shoulder bag. “A bit of an unorthodox way to start a friendship, don’t you think?”

“I’m all about the unorthodox.” 

“Somehow I’m getting that impression.”

“Look,” he continued, waving a hand through the air as if to brush off her comment and move straight to the point, “I have this cat. I think I mentioned my cat?”

A short laugh escaped her. “Yes, I believe the cat came up.”

“So this cat, he’s a ginger. Fluffy, handsome, angling to take over the world once he finally learns how to open a can of tuna on his own, you know the drill.”

“Your cat is set on world domination?”

James fixed her with a serious stare. “He’s very smart, Lily.”

“Right. Silly me. Carry on, then.”

“You’re not taking this seriously, but you’ll be sorry when Charlie grows opposable thumbs and targets you first. I’ve been winning him over with a steady diet of bacon and fish.”

Lily looked at him sideways. “Your cat’s name is Charlie?”

“Is that surprising?”

“It just seems… normal, I don’t know. My uncle had a cat named Charlie.”

James flung his arms out wide. “See? We have so much in common already!” Lily rolled her eyes as he admitted, “Although technically his full name is Charles Lickens, author of a Tale of Two Kitties.”

A laugh bubbled out of her again. “And there it is.”

He smiled down at her and ruffled his hair again with a pleased air. “Anyway. I feel like it’s my solemn duty as a responsible cat owner to give Charlie more folk of his own kind. You, Evans, are also a ginger who might be set on world domination, so I think you two would get along swimmingly. Although I hope at this point you can open a tuna can on your own, and I’d like you to be aware that he might coerce you into servitude. He’s very persuasive.”

Lily stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing him to stop alongside her. “So, let me get this straight.” She ticked off her fingers. “You insulted my mate, I poured a drink on your head, we have managed a perfectly acceptable mutual apology, and now you’d like me to befriend your cat, who just happens to be named after a book I reread every Christmas.”

“That about sums it up, yeah.”

She took him in, tall and muscled and standing comfortably in his green t-shirt, hands tapping at his sides. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

His lips tipped up crookedly. “Not since I was born.”

She could admit it to herself, she thought, that wasn’t too dangerous. She liked this one. Far more than she should after one meeting, if she was being honest, but he was _funny_ \-- and seemingly smart and thoughtful and willing to take ownership of his mistakes, which was a rare sight these days. 

And Lily was drawn to him in a way that pulled at her stomach.

So she let out a breath, as if it were a hardship, and said, “Alright, Potter. Deal. We’ll be friends.”

The grin that split his face was entirely too bright, too dimpled, too _something_ for Lily to handle. “Great!” he cried. He stuck out his hand, waited until she tucked hers into it, and shook enthusiastically. “It’s settled! No take backs!”

His energy was infectious, she thought as he started moving backward, eyes on her even as his feet carried him away. Not even an hour of conversation total and she was already sucked into one of his schemes.

“I’ll see you in history,” he said loudly, words drifting through the growing gulf between them and shaking her back into the conversation.

“Where are you going?”

“My class started ten minutes ago,” he called, nearly skipping backward now. “Save me a seat tomorrow!”

And with one last blinding smile, he turned and hopped into a jog toward main campus.

Lily watched him move away, toned calves and forearms flying through the air as he waved to someone and sprinted right past them, and thought to herself, _Shit._

*****

Looking back, Lily found it utterly unsurprising how quickly James managed to weave his way into every aspect of her life. From that first day in global history, when he plopped down next to her and whispered conspiratorially, “I switched out Binns’ first slide, wait til you see,” and then waited in coiled silence until the lecture began with an enormous photo of a (presumably his) cat in a pirate hat and eyepatch -- surprising Lily into such delight that she spit out her tea.

He took to their friendship with an enthusiastic abandon that left Lily with no choice but to be caught up in its wake. She was quickly pulled into a study group, which he proclaimed would “increase her knowledge of world events while at the same time lowering her IQ,” whatever that meant, and finally met his friends -- Sirius, the dark, nihilistic one, with arm tattoos and a dry wit that Lily appreciated immediately; Remus, with his air of a professor that would “accidentally” lose a class’s essays and give everyone a pass; and Peter, the quieter, slightly separate boy who James had pulled into his circle nonetheless.

Lily was nervous at James’s first suggestion of her joining the group, but he badgered her nonstop and within a week she found herself shyly leaning against his dorm doorway with a textbook under her arm.

Sirius was the first one to notice. “Kim!” he shouted, and Lily checked over her shoulder to see if anyone was behind her.

“Erm… Lily, actually. Lily Evans?” she replied, arching an eyebrow. James turned from where he was lying on his stomach on the floor to beam at her.

“Kim from Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I think he meant,” Remus said from his spot leaning on a bed. “Sirius has an unhealthy obsession with that show.” He sent her a smile. “Nice to officially meet you, Lily.”

“Unhealthy? _Unhealthy_ ?” Sirius sounded insulted. “That show is pure _poetry_. You will never reach the level of cultural relevance that Kim and Lisa’s fight attained, and I dare you to try.”

“He's not wrong,” Lily added, stepping into the room in earnest. "It's the level of drama I aim for in my interactions with enemies."

James looked up at her. “You watch Real Housewives?”

“My sister loves it. I was forced, on occasion.”

“See? _See_?” Sirius cried, pointed a finger at Lily. “Finally someone with relevant taste!” He gave Lily a once over, and nodded decisively. “She can stay.”

Remus rolled her eyes. “As if your opinion was going to be the deciding factor.” But he gestured for Lily to take a seat on the floor.

Lily glanced at James. “What did I tell you?” he said, shrugging. “We make it by, but this is not an elevated bunch.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m here, then.”

“I’d certainly say so.” The smile he gave her was soft and beautiful and made her heart skip, just for a moment. “Welcome to the crew, Evans.” 

She smiled at him amongst cries of “We can be elevated!” and settled onto the floor, and that was that.

In the intervening weeks, she came to be quite good friends with the Marauders -- a nickname she learned Peter had shouted drunkenly at a stranger one night, and which had then stuck. She discussed books with Remus, went on a wine tour with Peter (an experience she quickly decided against repeating, after it took six hours and he forced her to spit out everything she drank, resulting in a dry mouth and no fun tipsy feeling), and even let Sirius teach her and Mary poker one rainy night in the dorms, when the other boys were stuck in the library (which ended with Sirius passed out pantless on the couch, Lily and Mary drunkenly conducting a vicious war with office supplies, and a very confused James coming home to a floor covered in pens and the girls snorting in a fort made of cardboard). 

But it was James she sought out most, and James who became -- seemingly with no conscious effort on his part -- her actual, real-life knight in shining armor.

When Lily was up late finishing her thesis in those final months at uni, James met her at the library for breaks and listened to her rant about chemical compounds until she felt calmer and ready to write. When Petunia got engaged, James took Lily out to lunch and they spent a memorable hour inventing all the ways they could mess with the Dursley family at the wedding. And when she finally moved into London proper, he showed up in her flat with Chinese takeout and Settlers of Cataan, and she spent her first hours in a new city haggling over sheep and wheat and feeling completely at home.

He texted her every day, kept her sane over FaceTime when she was on awful family vacations, and was the first to offer her a cup of tea and a pillow to scream into after her falling out with Severus. They just _fit_ , her and James, and he knew exactly what she needed. Being with him was like a cup of tea, a good book, and a fireplace with snow swirling outside -- just where she wanted to be at all times. 

But even with the signs piling up around her, flashing neon and demanding attention, Lily might have been content to live in happy, pointedly friendly denial for the rest of her days, if it hadn’t been for the cough drops.

It was such a simple thing, really. Brought on by an ill-advised walk, which Mary tried to talk her out of and Lily insisted on taking anyway, intent on exploring their new neighborhood despite the clouds gathering ominously on the horizon. She did see the neighborhood (and met an oddly intense man named Albus, who was out on his balcony feeding some kind of large parrot), but she also got caught in a rainstorm that could be termed torrential, at best, but in all honesty seemed more akin to biblical.

It was a full hour before Lily managed to stagger her way back through the maze of streets to their new flat, wet and bedraggled and promising herself that she would find a thrifted rain coat as soon as possible.

Mary left the next day for some corporate retreat outside of the city (“I’m sure we’ll all find our newly developed sense of teamwork amongst the bullshit and synergy”), and Lily woke up with her head pounding and a knife in her throat. She called her office, warned them she wouldn’t be in for a day or two, and crawled back into bed.

James showed up a day later, when she was in the middle of texting Mary. 

**Lily Evans:** _I think I’m dying._

 **Mary MacDonald:** _Was it that hand scene in Pride and Prejudice?_

 **Lily:** _No.  
Well, yes.  
But not what I meant.  
We’re out of tissues.  
I have a mountain next to me and I can’t move to throw them away.  
People are going to think I’m a depraved teenage boy.  
Plus my throat hurts. _

**Mary:** _What did I tell you about exploring the neighborhood in the rain??  
And Jesus, woman, just go to a doctor!! _

**Lily:** _And deal with that creepy medical assistant who asks if he can show me how to do a breast exam every time I come in?  
No, thank you.  
I am withering, but I’m not yet that desperate. _

**Mary:** _Fair  
You should take something, though  
I think we have some NyQuil in the bathroom? _

**Lily:** _I looked, it’s not there.  
Probably still packed in a box.  
And as such, you should start planning my funeral.  
No lilies at the service, please.  
Too cliche. _

**Mary:** _Poor baby  
Can you call someone else to bring you meds?  
Potter, maybe? _

**Lily:** _James?  
I don’t want to bother him.  
I talked to him this morning and he’s at some charity event with his dad _

**Mary:** _Just tell him you need him, he’ll come running!  
That boy is so mad for you, I swear  
He’d jump off a bridge if you asked him to _

**Lily:** _He would not, God.  
And he is not, we’re just friends. _

**Mary:** _HE WILLINGLY TALKED TO VERNON DURSLEY FOR YOU  
FOR HALF AN HOUR  
THAT IS NOT SOMETHING A FRIEND WOULD DO, LILY _

**Lily:** _Ok, first, I’m hurt that you wouldn’t do that for me.  
But fair.  
And second, James was just seeing how long he could go on quoting National Treasure without Vernon noticing.  
You’d think he would’ve caught on at the “I’m going to steal the Declaration of Independence” bit, but maybe he’s even more dense that I realized. _

**Mary:** _HA  
God, what a lump _

**Lily:** _I don’t know how Petunia puts up with him._

 **Mary:** _Easy, he’s got money and is willing to listen to her gossip  
They’re a perfect couple  
And you know who else would be a perfect couple? _

**Lily:** _You are not subtle._

 **Mary:** _Never said I was  
Coincidentally, neither is James  
Every time you two are together I swear I can see his boner _

**Lily:** _MARY  
GOD _

**Mary:** _What? Just call ‘em like I see ‘em  
And I see it big on him  
It’s very inappropriate, really  
Just get married already so we don’t have to deal with his endless pining  
I think you two would have a lovely June wedding _

**Lily:** _We are not talking about this._

 **Mary:** _Gold and white as the theme colors  
Very summery  
Timeless _

**Lily:** _Mary._

 **Mary:** _I’d like to be maid of honour, we know Petunia can’t pull it off_

 **Lily:** _I’m hanging up on you._

 **Mary:** _You can’t hang up on me, we’re texting_  
_And you’ll have a baby within two years!_  
_With a perfect head of hair and your eyes and you’ll be those disgusting parents who make their profile pictures their children because he’s the cutest baby ever_

 **Lily:** _Goodbye._

 **Mary:** _Love you x_

Lily was in the middle of searching for a photo to send -- the boy in Spongebob pajamas with an utterly unimpressed look on his face sounded good -- when there was a loud knock on the door. She startled, dropping her phone. 

A muffled voice called out from behind the door and drifted into her flat. “You probably think I’m a murderer but I swear I’m not, but I’m also carrying heavy bags so I’d appreciate it if you let me in sooner rather than later!”

She nearly tripped over herself in her haste to reach the source of the voice. When she wrenched the door open, she found hazel eyes examining her frankly from behind thick-framed glasses.

“That’s very poor safety protocol,” James said without preamble, and nudged his way past her before she could say anything. “You just open the door for anyone who says they aren’t a murderer? Murderers can lie, you know!”

She stood framed in the doorway for a moment, shocked into silence and suddenly all too aware of her puffy eyes and pajama shorts. Damn walks. Damn colds and sick days and anything that didn’t leave James to find her laughing prettily over a salad. 

Meanwhile, he continued toward her kitchen, and only turned back to look at her once he reached it. “Other poor safety protocol is leaving the door open for anyone to waltz in. I know you’re new to London, Evans, but you should know that already.”

This spurred her into action. She shut the door quickly and moved toward him, subtly trying to wipe her nose as she did. “I obviously wouldn’t open the door for anyone,” she retorted. “I just recognized your voice.” James opened his mouth, and she hurriedly added, “And don’t give me anything about murderers having voice modulation, those only work to make you sound like Darth Vader and I’m pretty sure I’d recognize you anyway.”

He just laughed.

By this time, she had made it to the kitchen, and now watched him unload a grocery bag onto her countertop. Carrots, celery, onions, a few spices. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, forearms on glorious display as he dove into each bag. 

After a moment, Lily ventured, “Didn’t you have a thing today?”

“Auction at a bookstore,” James answered without looking up. “Money’s going to some museum refurbishment. Not my thing, but Dad needed help with the photography, so…”

“And they don’t… need you there now?”

At this, he paused in unloading to smile at her. “My part’s over. And Mary texted this morning to say you were still sick and I knew you would never actually ask anyone to bring you help, so --” he shrugged, an onion in one hand -- “here I am.”

Lily hugged her arms around herself, tucking her hands under her armpits and watching as he rooted around in her cabinets. He came up moments later with a cutting board, a knife, and a victorious cry. “You really don’t have to do that, you know,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“You look miserable, actually,” James replied in a conversational tone, and set the onion on the cutting board. “And you can’t cook, so sit yourself on that stool over there --” he brandished the knife as a pointer -- “and let me feed you. I’m going to make soup, and then we’re going to sit on the couch and finally finish season three of Stranger Things.” 

She eyed him, debating the merits of refusing on grounds of bias and slander. She could cook. Just because most of her meals consisted of frozen dumplings didn’t mean she couldn’t cook. But she really did feel awful, so she settled onto the stool with as much dignity as she could muster and peered at him unhappily from over the neck of her sweater. He had finished chopping the onion and was moving on to the carrots, his movements quick and confident.

“You know I’m only allowing this because I can’t watch Stranger Things without you, and I think there’s a good chance Joe Keery will cure all my ills,” she said.

James flashed her a grin. “Why do you think I brought it up?”

“Manipulation,” Lily grumbled under her breath. “Using Steve to worm your way into my house and insult me. Callous and cruel.”

“Somehow I had a feeling you’d react that way,” James said. “So I brought you something else to prove my good intentions.” He nodded toward one of the still full grocery bags. Lily propped herself up with her toes on the base of the stool and reached over the counter to pull it toward her, curious. “Had to go to three Warwicks to find these, you know, weird flavor enthusiast you are. Don’t understand why anyone would willingly choose pineapple medicine.”

Staring up at Lily out of the bag were several yellowish, orangish plastic sacks of Halls cough drops. Pineapple, which she ate like candy and James swore tasted like the witch from Hansel and Gretel was trying to poison him. She hadn’t been able to find them at any pharmacy since she’d moved in.

And with her face in that bag full of cough drops, miserable and aching and entirely ill, Lily’s heart dropped into her stomach. Her stomach that suddenly felt full of butterflies, of a warm and fluttery feeling that had everything to do with the man in front of her, joking about her favorite show and making her soup and bringing her cough drops that were just the right flavor. 

She didn’t… she couldn’t…

Shit.

*****

It was no wonder, really, that she felt the way she did. He was dynamic and hilarious and _beautiful_ , and had swept her off her feet so utterly and completely that she was left dangling off a cliff with no clear understanding of how she had gotten there. 

But despite the monumental feelings that had been growing like a weed out of her stomach, making her feel like bursting at the seams, shaking James, and screaming, “Love me, you idiot!” she still didn’t know how he felt. He held her hand, yes, but he did that with Sirius and Remus, too -- he was just an affectionate person. And he occasionally gave her a kiss on the head, which always made Lily feel like her heart was going to jump out of her chest, but never once had he given the indication that he wanted to kiss her anywhere else, or for any lasting length of time. And _God_ , did Lily want him to kiss her somewhere else. Preferably for a long, _long_ time.

Which now left her here, wrung out and exhausted, barely tipsy on flat champagne and staring at herself in the mirror of an overly bright bathroom. She had abandoned James on the couch after what she judged to be an appropriately appreciative amount of time, begging off under the guise of wanting to talk with Marlene, whom she hadn’t seen in ages.

That had worked well, for the most part. He let her go without much complaint, just a slight frown and a “Find me later, yeah? I’ll need you if Hannah makes a pass again” and seemed content to settle back on his own for a bit. She had managed to spin her conversation with Marlene into a half hour long catch up, and then a paired contest of some game involving cups and ping pong balls that Eli McLaggen had brought back from his stint studying in America. Lily had passed off most of the drinking on that one and, as a result, she was now relatively sober as she counted down the minutes. 

Half past eleven, just about. She only had to make it past midnight without seeing James. Otherwise, God forbid, she might watch him take a sledgehammer to her chest as he planted a joyful kiss on the lips of whoever he stood closest to at midnight -- he was unashamed and exuberant enough that he would think nothing of it.

Or, even worse, she might be the girl next to him. And he would tilt his head down with that mischievous glint in his eye and finally, _finally_ , kiss her, bringing to life the tamest version of the daydream that took over her brain every time she saw him. Her heart would be full, and she would immediately take it to mean that they were _together_ , just as she dreamed they could be, in every sense of the word. But then he would pull back and laugh and she would realize no, it was just the moment. It was just New Years, and he was affectionate, and this was nothing more than a festive holiday tradition, never to be repeated. Which Lily was not being overly dramatic in thinking, penchant for theatre though she had, would crush her beyond repair.

No. Better to avoid him, and that. Better to keep James in her life however she could, because even having a piece of him was better than having anyone else, and Lily wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He was smart, though. He wouldn’t let her avoid him forever. He was probably looking for her now, wondering why she’d left him for so long -- they tended to pass parties together these days, and her absence would not go unnoticed. So she just had to figure out a plausible excuse for another thirty to forty minutes of separation, and then a coping mechanism that would allow her to repress overwhelming romantic feelings for her very best friend for the rest of her life, and then she’d be all set.

Lily was idly contemplating whether there were any tranquilizers specifically made for unrequited love when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Er… hello?” a tentative voice called. “I hate to interrupt, especially if there’s someone ill, but I do quite need to use the loo and I’m wondering if I need to brave the cold outside?”

Lily shook her head and stumbled over to the door, swinging it open. “I’m so sorry, I was just -- oh! Remus!”

The sandy haired man stood with his fist raised, poised to knock again, but at the sight of Lily he let it drop. “Lily!” He sounded surprised. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m…” How could she describe the feeling in her stomach, like a snake pit worthy of Harrison Ford had sprung into existence over the last hour? “...fine,” she finished lamely. 

“Glad to hear it,” he said warmly, smiling at her. “I can report back to James, he’s been worried.” 

Lily swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth. Then attempted an easy air. “Like a mother hen, he is,” she said with a light laugh. “But speaking of, I was actually just going to find James -- you wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

Remus eyed her face carefully. “Somewhere around here, I think,” he finally said, seeming to come to a decision based on what he’d seen. “My guess would be the kitchen.”

“Right.” Lily made another attempt at a careless chuckle. “I’ll go find him in the kitchen, then. Didn’t you need to…” she gestured at the bathroom.

“Yeah, right.” Remus stepped past her and she scuttled out around him. “Just so you know, Lily --” she turned to face him at the words “-- he’s been missing you all night. He’s much happier when you’re around.”

And smiling knowingly at the flush that crept up her cheeks, Remus closed the door to the bathroom and shut her out.

Well.

That was… something.

Lily squinted down the hallway, bright and unmenacing, leading toward the kitchen. Leading toward James, the feelings she was barely keeping under wraps, and the ultimate heartbreaking disappointment surely waiting for her.

Then she spun on her heel and nearly fled the opposite direction.

It was just for a few minutes, she told herself as her feet thunked up the carpeted staircase. Just a few minutes to give herself time to recollect her brain, lasso her heart back into her chest. If she had that time, she could figure it out, and then go back downstairs to Mary and Marlene and James and pretend that everything was fine, perfect, _normal._

She flitted down the hallway of bedrooms (who on earth needed six bedrooms? Nobody had that many guests at once), trying every door with a growing sense of urgency. _Stupid,_ stupid _McLaggen and his shite ability to think ahead_ , she thought, pushing hard against the fifth unbudging door. There wasn’t even a closet open, and James would surely come up here to look for her soon. Remus would be out of the bathroom by now, and he would surely be confused when he found James and didn’t see her tucked into his side. Then he would mention to James that Lily was looking for him, and that would set off a manhunt of epic proportions. And she would be cornered. Up here, in a dark hallway. With James Potter.

Fuck.

She nearly tripped toward the last door on the hall, praying under her breath with a fervor that would’ve pleased her God-fearing Christian mother, and felt light headed with relief when it gave under her hand. She stumbled inside, let out a profound breath.

And stuttered to a halt.

Stared at the man standing on the balcony, silhouetted in the glass doors and puffing cold air out into the night. 

Realized who it was, as her heart gave a mammoth _lurch_ that sent her scrambling back toward the door.

But James had turned at the sound of the door clicking shut, and now was tripping over himself in an attempt to reenter the bedroom.

“Lily!” she heard him call, and the door wasn’t opening fast enough, she couldn’t get out fast enough, her fingers weren’t working, and then his hands were on her arms and he was spinning her, catching her wrists between his fingers. “Lils, where have you been?”

“I was --” she looked around the room wildly for any inspiration, any way out of the inevitable explosion building in her veins. Cold air drifted through the room from the open balcony door.

James was scanning her face worriedly. “Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you? I saw you playing with Marlene and I tried to catch you after but you went to the bathroom so quickly --”

“No, I’m -- I’m fine, I’m just --”

“Lily. Take a breath, tell me what’s happening --”

“Remus said you were in the kitchen,” she interrupted. “In the kitchen, you weren’t supposed to be here…”

“You talked to Remus?” He looked confused. “How did Remus find you? And he said…” A dawn of comprehension started to creep over his face. “And he told you I would be in the kitchen, and you came here.” He unlocked his fingers from her wrists, took a step back. “Were you avoiding me?”

The cold air that swept in at the lack of his touch felt like a burn. “No, I was… I mean yes, but --”

“Did I do something wrong?” The comprehension on James’s face had morphed into a nervous kind of hurt, his eyes darting across hers anxiously. 

The words twisted into her like a knife to the gut. “No, James, of course not, I was just…” she trailed off, unable to find anything to say that wasn’t the truth, unwilling to lie to him and hurt him more.

But he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Was it the tickets? I’ll kill my mother, I _knew_ you’d panic, I thought they were too much but she insisted they’d finally make you notice --”

He cut himself off abruptly.

Lily felt as if she had just been hit in the face with an unexpected snowball. Her brain sputtered, replaying his words, rearranging their meaning. “You… she… notice what?” she finally managed.

Now James looked slightly panicked. “Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s nothing, it’s not important…” He shook his head, and refocused his gaze somewhere over her right shoulder. “I’m sorry if they were too much,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean anything by them, I’ll take them back, just… please don’t avoid me?” His eyes -- those lovely, hazel eyes -- shifted to meet hers, and the desperation in them squeezed at her heart.

“James,” she started, then stopped. The words were building up inside her now, pounding against her throat. Demanded by his earnest, open face, so genuine and beautiful and now hurt, by her. Demanded by her own selfish heart which, all of a sudden, had found the smallest sliver of reason to hope. “James, what were you going to say? Notice what?” 

His eyes immediately dropped to her chin, and then traveled farther, down to the floor. She could only see a glint from his glasses and the vague shape of closed eyes before his hand ran over his face. “It’s nothing,” he said again, the sound muffled by his palm and seemingly more to himself than to her. “Notice nothing, I don’t need it to mean anything, we’re friends and that’s amazing and I wouldn’t change that for anything. Just please, _please_ don’t avoid me, Lily, I couldn’t take that.”

 _Friends_. The word clanged through her, but differently this time. It seemed… desperate. The same kind of desperation she had bouncing through her mind at all hours of the day recently, trying to talk herself out of something that couldn’t happen. 

Despite herself, that small sliver of hope cracked wider. Was he… did he feel the same way she did?

And suddenly, as if that errant thought had filled the words she was holding back with rocket fuel, they burst out of her mouth. “James.” His hand dropped, and he looked back at her with heartbreaking hope. “James, I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore.”

He reacted so physically it was like she had punched him. He rocked backward, and all emotion dropped off his face. “What?” he whispered.

Lily’s brain scrambled to catch up with itself. “No!” she cried, lurching toward him. “No, that’s not what I meant, I just -- you’re so perfect and incredible and my best friend in the whole world but I feel like I’m _dying_ , every time we’re together I feel like I’m dying, because I want to kiss you so badly I can’t breathe and that’s not something you do with friends!” 

She was panting by the time she finished. Her breath puffed out into a room shocked into silence. And with that silence all of her doubt flooded back in, stole into her body and filled her with the certainty that she was _wrong_ , she had misread this situation so badly and it was _over_ , everything was done.

She couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see the shock on his face. Shock that would surely morph into something kind and pitying but ultimately rejection, of both her and her feelings. He would be kind, of course, because James was kind, and she was his friend, and he would want to let her down easy. He would be gentle with her heart, she knew, even as he broke it.

But her thoughts were interrupted by James’s hands, suddenly sliding over her cheeks and into her hair, warm and insistent, and tilting her head up, up, up, until she saw, finally, his bright smile, as wide and dimpled as she had ever seen it. His eyes were shining. “Why didn’t you start with that?” he whispered, and then his mouth crashed onto hers and every doubt eddied out of her head.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t imagined this moment. James’s hands in her hair, calloused fingers sliding over her cheeks and tracing patterns around her ears, pressing her against the beautiful, warm length of him while he played her body like a fiddle. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought she would be bowled over, or that it would feel perfect.

It was just that the reality was so much better.

Lily melted into him, warm and aching. Lines of fire shot down her body, burning a blazing trail into her heart and her stomach and sending tingles into every place they touched. His hands were everywhere -- in her hair, skimming down her back, hitching up under her skirt and into her shirt until she lost herself completely in the feel of him wrapped around her. It felt like light in her veins, like pure happiness spilling into the air around her.

It felt like coming home.

“Your face is cold,” she laughed a few minutes -- hours, days -- later, pulling back from him. 

“Yes, well, I was brooding outside for a while because the woman I’m mad over wouldn’t speak to me,” James huffed, taking advantage of the new angle to pepper kisses over her cheeks. “Very unfair of you. Was out of my mind.”

“I was protecting my own fragile heart!” Lily cried. “How was I supposed to know you’d react like this?”

James paused in his ravishing of her face to stare at her incredulously. “I suppose me constantly bringing up reasons to touch you wasn’t enough? Or the compliments? Or the fact that I’ve literally told you I’m miserable when we don’t talk for more than a day?”

“You weren’t nearly as obvious as you think you were,” she grumbled, and he laughed.

“I’ll endeavor to be very clear in the future, then.” His eyes twinkled down at her, and her heart swelled. “Lily Jean Evans, I am completely, head over heels, utterly mad about you. You are my favorite person, the brightest part of my day, and seeing you happy is the most wonderful thing I can imagine. I would like very much to make you happy as frequently as I can, and I think the best way I can accomplish that is by fulfilling what happens to be a dream of mine since I was standing, sticky and wet, in the Hogs Head, staring in awe after an utter minx of a redhead who turned my life upside down.” He tugged a lock of her hair, and then dropped a quick kiss onto her nose, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. “What do you say to dramatically lowering your standards and deigning to call me your boyfriend?”

Lily’s laugh bubbled out of her, edges soft and blurred with the utter relief coursing through her body. “You make a pretty good speech, you know that?”

James grinned. “I’ve been practicing that one for a while. Wasn’t sure when it was going to come up.”

“Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pretend like you really think you’re lowering anyone’s standards, I know your mother built you a better ego than that.” 

“She did, it’s true, but I don’t think even she expected I’d someone of your perfection would ever be interested in me.”

“Flatterer.”

“For you? Always,” he said, and dipped closer, humming as he captured her lips again. She melted into him for a moment before he suddenly stopped and pulled back.

“You never actually gave me an answer, now that I think about it,” he added, trying to shape his face into some semblance of a stern expression. He couldn’t quite stop the corners of his lips from twitching upward. “Here I am, having bared my soul to you, wasting away as I await affirmation from the love of my life --”

“And me telling you I wanted to kiss you so badly I felt like I was dying wasn’t enough?” she interrupted. “I feel much better now, by the way, keep that up.”

James laughed, and Lily felt it travel all the way into her bones, tracing a glowing path of utter happiness. James was here, in front of her. James was _kissing her_. James wanted everything she wanted, and the world felt new and beautiful and full of possibilities.

She beamed up at him, and his face softened immediately. “I’d like to keep making you feel better, if that’s all right with you,” he said softly. “And as much as I’m pretty sure you feel the same way, I’ve spent enough time torturing myself about this lately that I wouldn’t hate a straight answer… if you feel comfortable with that?”

She tucked her hands more firmly around his neck, this nervous, sweet, perfect man that she could finally, _finally_ , touch. “I’ll endeavor to be very clear right now, then. Yes, James, I want you to be my boyfriend,” she breathed. “I want to spend every day with you, and I don’t care how annoying that makes me. And I want to do all the girlfriend things, like come to your soccer matches and wear your shirts and talk to your mother about embarrassing stories and eat chips off your plate without asking and --”

“You know, come to think of it, I’d like to take back what I said before --” he broke off as Lily flicked his nose. 

“-- and be a part of your insane world and family, because yes, James, you are also my best friend and my favorite person in the world and I cannot believe I am lucky enough to have you in my life.” She couldn’t stop smiling. God, she was a sap.

They slid into a brief moment of silence, and Lily just stared up at him, taking in the scent and feel of him so close. His face was soft and warm. “You know you make me incredibly happy, right, Potter?” she added, and his hands tightened around her waist.

“The feeling is very mutual, Evans,” he murmured, and leaned closer. She closed her eyes and rose up on her tiptoes in expectation.

But before their lips met, he pulled back slightly. “Lily,” he said, breath fanning hot over her face, “there was a second part to my speech.” His hand skimmed over the skin on her right hip, bared as her sweater untucked from her skirt.

Lily shivered and opened her eyes to see a wicked half-smile on James’s face. In response, she reached behind her and flipped the lock on the door.

*****

“We were early, you know,” she said conversationally, the next morning, having woken up snuggled and content in James’s flat. She was going to have an ungodly number of texts from Mary after their unceremonious exit from the party, but in this moment -- warm and bundled in James’s sheets, the reality of him wrapped around her -- everything seemed manageable. Everything seemed _right._ She traced a finger across James’s bare chest. 

“Hm?” He trapped her hand and tugged, pulling her forward until she flopped on top of him, chest to chest and face to face. He lifted a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“We were early,” she repeated. “Aren’t people usually supposed to kiss at midnight?”

James huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure we were kissing at midnight, weren’t we? I can try to remind you of how it felt if you’re a bit fuzzy on the finer details.” He pressed at the back of her head in an attempt to move her closer.

“Semantics,” Lily said, batting his hand away. “It was before midnight when we kissed first. You robbed me of my perfect New Years moment, Potter.”

He turned back to gaze up at her. “I’ll have to make up for it then, to get you to stop griping.”

“Oi!” 

He laughed as she moved to tug out of his grip, and pulled her tighter. His face was soft and open. “I’ll kiss you at midnight tonight, Lily. And tomorrow, and the night after, and after that, and after that, until you’re so tired of it you beg me to stop.”

Lily softened against him. “Remind me why we haven’t been doing this for years?”

He trailed a finger up her cheek, then twisted it into her hair. He examined the gold flecks for a moment. “Fear, stupidity, I don’t know. The fact that you’re so far out of my league that I never thought I had a shot with you and I was so desperate to have you in my life that I wouldn’t risk asking.”

“Trying to bring me down to your level by calling me stupid, huh?”

James laughed, wide and bright and open, and trapped her face between his hands. “I was the stupid one.”

“And now you’re calling my boyfriend, who I’m quite in love with, stupid. You’re not off to a great start this morning.” 

“You’re impossible,” he replied, eyes tracking hers and grinning. “But perfect. You are impossible and beautiful and brilliant and perfect, and _God,_ I love you so much.”

Lily’s heart was ready to burst out of her chest, and she buried her face against his neck. “I’m holding you to all those midnights, James,” she whispered.

He slid a hand through her hair once more, and Lily watched as a few bits of glitter floated down, catching the sunlight and glimmering as they landed on the carpet. When she looked back at him, his eyes held flecks of gold. “I can’t wait,” he said, and pulled her in for another kiss.

She hummed. It wasn’t quite the same this year, that was true. But somehow she was okay with that.


End file.
